


in the arms of an angel

by j_gabrielle



Category: Kingsman (Movies), The King's Man
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha!Duke of Oxford, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Implied Mpreg, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Omega!Conrad, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 08:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19989031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: His paternal instincts burn with fear for his son, worry and futile anger against the nature of their biologies that this happened, but a deeper, primordial part of him that has, from the moment he set foot on school grounds after rushing here when they had called him, from the second he inhaled the sweet, clean scent of his son hanging thick in the air, hums with a fire of a different kind.It doesn't matter, he tells himself again like a mantra. But matter for what and for whom, he does not know.





	in the arms of an angel

**Author's Note:**

> For my sanity, I am going to give the Duke of Oxford the name of Mallory because as the only person writing in this tag right now, I reckon I get some naming rights haha... I know that when the actual character names get released, this is mooted, but until then and for ease of writing, he is Mallory here.
> 
> Conrad is 17 in this, and I'm tagging it as underage because I'm covering my bases here.
> 
> My eternal thanks, as always, to stebeee x

**I.**

"This way, Sir," The principal gestures down another turn. 

He keeps his breathing shallow, calling upon every ounce of control in him to not break into a run and chase down the scent of his son in distress. Calling fruitlessly still on the warm fatherly memory of the first time he had held Conrad in his arms, had scented his child and sworn he could have laid the world at his babe's feet.

"... locked every Alpha student..."

"...triggered his Heat, but he is safe..."

Mallory lets their voices drone on in the background of the safety measures they have taken. It doesn't matter, he tells himself. It never mattered what Conrad's orientation turned out to be, it never has. Even if he had been an Alpha like himself, like how everyone who had ever met his son had thought he would be, it wouldn't have changed a whit of his affection for his son if had he turned out to be a Beta.

 _But he did not, did he?_ A traitorous voice whispers in the back of his head. _He is an Omega. The first in your family in five generations and somewhere, somehow you had hoped for this._

His heart beats high in his throat like a snare drum; choking, sitting heavier and heavier as he closes the distance between him and the door the school authorities have locked his son behind. Distantly, he can hear the shouts and sounds of unbonded Alphas who have succumbed to their baser urges, clamouring in the inner sanctums of the building.

His paternal instincts burn with fear for his son, worry and futile anger against the nature of their biologies that this happened, but a deeper, primordial part of him that has, from the moment he set foot on school grounds after rushing here, from the second he inhaled the sweet, clean scent of his son hanging thick in the air, hums with a fire of a different kind.

 _It doesn't matter_ , he tells himself again like a mantra through the cloying low-grade arousal deep in his gut. But matter for what and for whom, he does not know.

The principal and his secretary, both Betas who would never know the torturous siren call of an Omega in first Heat, stand a respectful distance behind him when they slow. One of the men hands him a key, and he thanks them in a voice that sounds distant and wrung out.

 _It doesn't matter, you're his father first_ , he reminds himself. Slotting the key, turning decisively, he pushes at the door with a shaking hand.

His son sits curled into himself in the corner of the shadows, whimpering softly; an Omegan drive born of a need to be protected at their most vulnerable. 

"Conrad," Mallory calls out through the quiet. "Conrad, I'm here."

At his voice, the whimpering ceases. "Father?"

"Yes," He licks his lips, heart threatening to burst in his chest at the taste that coats his tongue the moment he does. Mallory shakes his head, clearing it of the cobwebs. Taking a step into the room, he holds out his hand. "I am here. We are going home."

"Home?" Conrad echoes, unfurling himself. In the dusty light that streams through the window, summer blue eyes blown dark, fevered flush on his cheeks, the sight of him stutters the rhythm of his heart. It had only been a few months since Mallory saw him last, but it feels like it has been years.

Mallory goes closer still, crouching down to meet him halfway, and sees his brow beaded with sweat, the soft curl of his brown hair sticking to his skin. He keeps his hand outstretched, patiently waiting until Conrad crawls out of the dark and into his arms.

"Home," Conrad breathes against the skin of his neck, and Mallory feels a thousand lightning bolts fissuring up his spine at the honeyed want in his voice. He releases him to shed his coat, wrapping it tightly around Conrad, feeling a strange peace settle in his bones when his son holds the collar close over his nose. 

He folds his arms around him, picking his son up in a bridal carry. At 17, he was already taller than Mallory by mere centimetres, and as he stands with his weight in his arms, he can't help the swell of sudden sadness that steals his breath. Conrad would never be truly free. He would be beholden to the whims and fancies of whoever mated with him, forever held to society's expectations and norms that shackled Omegas like him.

Mallory keeps his eyes on Conrad, holding his open gaze. This time tomorrow, every hope of pretension, of hiding his nature would be gone like wisps of smoke climbing high to the heavens. Word will spread of Conrad, and the moment this Heat is over, he as the head of his house would have to put in a word with the society madames about matchmaking prospects.

 _Why shouldn't that be you?_ The devil voice in him spoke again, promisingly sweet and slow. _You could care for him better than any other Alpha. You love him. You know him._

He tightens his grip, not slowing until he crosses the threshold of the grand oak doors of the school entrance. His driver, thankfully a widowed Alpha, hurries to help him with Conrad, but he waves him away the moment Conrad flinches and clings to him. "Home please," He instructs right before he pulls up the partition. The engine rumbles to life with his son in his lap, and blessedly, they leave the school in their rearview.

Mallory studies the way his boy nestles himself in his embrace; the way he seems fully at ease in the presence of an Alpha - even if that Alpha is his father. There was no level of society that had been untouched of stories about Alpha parents who mated with their Omega offsprings. Though not common, genetic similarities were never a barrier to nature's inexplicable rules.

Brushing the hair that had fallen over Conrad's eyes away and back, he wonders if this could be one of those times.

"Conrad?" He whispers, tracing the flickering shadows of the passing treeline on high cheekbones with an idle finger. "Conrad, are you listening?"

Glazed eyes blink sluggishly, plush lips licked a spit sheen before he nods. "Yes."

"When we arrive, I'll instruct the maids to take care of you. I will send someone into the city for some... Method of relief. If your Heat began this morning, then you will have another five days more, and--"

"No."

Conrad's grip on his waistcoat is white knuckle tight. "No," He repeats again, voice steady even if his eyes lose a shred of glaze and take on a shade of shaky desperation. "No. I just need you, I just want you, please..."

Mallory unbends his fingers, slipping their palms together. His stomach feels like a thousand birds taking flight. "Conrad--" The rest of his thoughts flee. He tries to push him away, only to be viciously clung onto.

"I want you," Conrad insists softly, eyes earnest.

Mallory tries to argue. Caressing him by the cheek, he says, "This is the Heat talking. You'll think differently when your mind clears."

"No," Conrad whimpers, brows in a worried furrow. " _Alpha_ , please. I want you."

The cruel, manipulative use of that title doesn't slip his notice, even if the syllables tripping off his son's tongue in a clumsy exhale sparks a withdrawal of his salvation. There could have been no denying it now.

He must have hesitated. He must have shown his hand because he finds himself with Conrad's lips pressed tight to his. Chaste, clumsy, knocking teeth to flesh, and utterly unromantic. He inhales a deep lungful of Conrad's scent, suffusing himself in it to the bone, drowning in the way it consumes him from the inside out. He surrenders to it.

The one word, said with all cymbals of heaven fracturing through all his defences of the whys and whats and hows, through all his reason and excuses. Mallory cards his hand through soft brown hair, cradling him by the base of his skull, responding eagerly. He parts his lips, swallowing the soft keening sounds he elicits from Conrad. 

He loses track of time to the press of Conrad's body to his. The coat slips to the floor kicked away to the side in his haste to touch skin to skin. It was too awkward a space, too callous a place to do anything more than drink in the way Conrad tastes. Too public to solemnise something as precious as a bond between an Alpha and his Omega. 

He kisses Conrad. Matching their heartbeats, their breathing. He holds him tightly, losing a part of himself to the way his son, _oh_ , his son kisses back.

**II.**

To his credit, Mr Dawes the chauffeur parks the car at a discreet side of the house under the eaves of the tree. "Thank you," Mallory manages, stumbling out of the car through the cloud of arousal and ringing possessiveness that sing impatiently in his veins.

"If you don't mind me saying, Your Grace, the young sir and you..." Mr Dawes starts, ruddy face determined, holding the door open for them. "In all my years in your service, I have not seen you as happy as you are, when you are with him. Not even when Madam, bless her soul, was still alive."

It is more than a little step out of place, and Mallory has an instinctual urge to chastise on the tip of his tongue, but the press of heated skin to his stays it. There was nothing untrue about that statement. While Conrad's mother had been a fine Beta woman, a wonderful partner in his endeavours, he could not remember a time when his heart bloomed with warmth and romantic affection for her. It had been an arranged marriage and they had cobbled together a friendship out of it, but he hadn't known love with her.

Now, in hindsight, he could see this in the way Conrad had dutifully toddled after him as a child. Following him from room to room, crying when he had to be separated from his Alpha father. He can see it in the way Conrad preens under his praise, blossoming like spring flowers when he showers him with affection and care.

In a way, he supposes, he always knew it would come to this.

"Thank you, Mr Dawes," Mallory says sincerely and wraps his arm tightly around Conrad. "If you would please inform Mr Yates and Mrs Lloyd about this development..."

"I'll see to it, Sir," He closes the door of the car, walking ahead so that he could get the door of the house open for them. Mallory swallows tightly, turning his head to brush a quick kiss to Conrad's brow. 

"Just a few more steps," He murmurs.

Soft lips latch to the corner of his. "A few more."

He thinks he must have seen a few of the maids and footmen peeking out from doors, necks craning to look, but no one stops them or interrupts their progress through the house. Mr Dawes quietly ushers them upstairs to the Master suite, keeping any curious onlookers at bay.

The door snicks close behind them with a finality that rings loud in the silence of the room. Everything is as he had left it when he had woken this morning; his papers he had been in the middle of writing, the embers of the fire he had left unstoked. But everything else has changed. Conrad stands in the light, school shirt damp with sweat, his scent colouring the space between them with want, hands still holding on to his father's coat. 

"You can still walk away," Mallory says as a last offer. He steels himself. He can walk away from this still.

Conrad's eyes widen. And he sheds the coat.

Mallory thinks he loses time, then. At some point, they must have undressed, but he remembers little of that. Too eager, he was, for Conrad. He buries himself into the body in his arms, mouth catching on the line of graceful neck, sucking bruises, chasing the taste of salt and sweetness, and he thinks that this was probably what he was made for in this world; to be undone and then remade into a creature befitting the angel in his arms. He leaves their clothes a mess on the floor, manoeuvring their bodies onto the bed, slotting himself into the cradle of Conrad's thighs. He thinks he would like to worship them with his hands, his lips, his teeth. Leave marks there that say, here lies, Mallory, Duke of Oxford lost to love.

"Father," Conrad slurs, one hand in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. " _Alpha_ ," He moans, rocking his hips. Mallory hushes him, smoothing one hand down his sternum, the stuttering undulations of his belly glistening with fevered sweat, and then further down still. 

His cock lies heavy in his hand, wet with precome. 

"On your front."

His order is obeyed, and he helps Conrad onto his knees, chest pressed onto the mattress, arms thrown around a pillow. Mallory starts with trailing kisses; first to the pale column of his neck, down the line of his spine, lingering at the small dimples on the base. He commits his adoration to the flesh of his son; interring his venerations to every divine power that had conspired to fate him to Conrad.

"No turning back," He murmurs. He startles when fumbling hands reach back to grasp his hand.

"I want this. I want you," Conrad says. "Don't deny me this."

He smiles. "Never."

Mallory shuffles lower. He holds Conrad by the full fleshy mounds of his ass, parting them, leaning in and flattening his tongue, chasing and taking his fill of the starburst of summer oranges and Turkish delights. He hums, blowing on the winking pucker that blooms under his lips. He kisses it, delighting in the muffled sounds that Conrad buries into the pillow. 

He leans back, gently caressing him by the hip. "Breathe for me, darling. Breathe."

Conrad turns his head, heavy-eyed and kissed crimson lips slack as he whispers brokenly, "I'm trying..."

Mallory feels his heart kick in his chest. He moves his hand forward to fondle his balls, reaching down with the other to graze the rim of his slick hole before following it with his tongue and lips. He pursues the heady taste and sensation of Conrad in his mouth, ignoring his own erection sitting heavy on his inner thigh, leaving clear wet pools on his skin. 

His teeth touch Conrad and--

Conrad stiffens, muscles tensing, an aborted scream dying at his lips as he falls face-first like a doll whose strings had been cut. Immediately concerned, Mallory rushes up, curling himself around him, rolling Conrad onto his back. "Darling? Darling, are you... _Oh_."

Conrad pants, lips slack, eyes closed, body still jerking in the throes of ecstasy. The spread of his slick rushes between them. Mallory feels his mind run in a manic whirl of desire and delight. He grasps him by his weeping cock, the loose grip of his fingers causing his son to cry out, body arching helplessly.

Lush lips gape, eyes blown wide open as he begs, nails digging deep into the flesh of his arm. "Please, please, Father, _Alpha_... Please..."

Mallory does not think he knows what he is begging for, not really. Even as he moves to obey, even as he takes hold of his own erection by the base, angling it into the spit and slick wet hole, he knows with frightening clarity that this is it; at the first push of his bare cock into his own child, claiming him, branding him from the inside out. He gives his heart over on the second push and his soul on the third.

Mallory thinks he ascends then and there; with his son spurring him on with soft punched out noises as he fucks him into the mattress, mouth parting, biting down hard on the meat of his shoulder, tasting the copper tang of blood, losing himself to the swell of his knot locking his seed in his _Omega_.

**III.**

Conrad sleeps in his embrace. His lips graze the corner of Mallory's left jaw, exhalation ticking his nerves and he rearranges their bodies so that they are sharing a pillow, foreheads pressed together. His scent is changed; still the sweet and clean notes, but now threaded with the heady musk of his Alpha. He dreams and Mallory contents himself with watching over him.

In the end, Conrad's Heat had lasted three days, dying down in the last few hours before sunset. Mallory tries not to think too hard on why that could be. They managed bouts of clarity by the second day, having a proper talk, or as proper as you could get whilst naked and knotted together, about what this means and what they are to do next.

Through it, he learns that Conrad had been hoping that he would turn out Omega if only for a chance that Mallory could look at him in a way that was more than paternal. The revelation of his son's desire had surprised him. When asked how long he has been feeling this way, his boy had shrugged around a yawn, saying, "For as long as I can remember."

And when asked why he had never said anything, Conrad merely tilted his face to him, smiling wryly, "I loved you too much to risk it."

Mallory skims his fingers over the shape of his teeth sitting angry and stark against shadowed skin. He hears the clock in the hallway marking the hour, the coming in of Mr Yates the butler and his men going about lighting the fireplace and a few candles, leaving a tray of food and water on his writing-table. 

They have done it. They are mated.

Mallory casts his mind for any regrets or disgusts at himself, but all he finds is a cottony veil of resignation to this. He has mated his own son, his _Omega_. It was what it was.

He nuzzles his nose to Conrads, gently kissing his sleeping lips. 

They will need to legalise this. Mallory will have to put in a registration for both Conrad's assignation and then another for their bonded status. They will need to add this to the family registry. There will have to be an appropriately sized ceremony and who they will invite will be revealed in the upcoming days. They have obviously run right through more than a few of the acceptable courting norms and even if they had not, the fact that they were still father and son will not escape the wagging tongues in all the parlours and the drawing rooms of London. 

Mallory snakes a hand to Conrad's lower belly, pressing the pads of his fingers to it. The pressure stirs him, and he has to bite back a fond smile at the way his Omega smacks his lips in waking. "Hello," He says, gently sneaking his hand around Conrad's soft cock.

"Mm, if this is how you're going to wake me from here on out, I think I shall be very spoilt indeed," Conrad sighs, rolling his hips forward. 

He reaches out and rolls them over so that Conrad is straddling him by the hips, laughing bright and happy in the dying light of day. He wants to say, _I think I have spoilt you from the moment your mother placed you in my arms_ , or, _I cannot think of a better existence than that of being the one to spoil you_.

Instead, what he says, with a rumbling laugh and heart full of love, is this, "I think I would like that very much."

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Please exercise safe sex practices i.e. washing your mouth out after you put it anywhere near another person's nether regions. Also, for the love of everything good, don't double-dip. Coz bacteria and it's just nasty. Don't do it y'all.  
> 2\. I had an idea, I ran with it, I don't know if it worked, I'm just exorcising my demon muses right now please don't judge :>  
> \--  
> I have never, will never, allow any reposting or translations of my works without my permission. All of my works will and shall only be hosted on my personal accounts on AO3 (j_gabrielle), Dreamwidth (j_gabrielle) and Tumblr (randomingoftherandomness, hardheartshere).
> 
> For those who say that I never said anything, it is clearly stated on my AO3 profile bio.
> 
> I do not have a Twitter account.
> 
> I do not have a Wattpad account.
> 
> **Please Do Not Repost My Fics**


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